


I Take Thee, Witch

by tisfan



Series: Season of the Witch [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bewitched Fusion, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Witches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-15
Packaged: 2021-02-23 06:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23007127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: The MCU/Bewitched Au that no one asked for
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Wanda Maximoff
Series: Season of the Witch [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683061
Comments: 54
Kudos: 72





	1. Three Times, The Charm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flowerofthewolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowerofthewolf/gifts).



> These chapters are going to be super short to sort of give the sensation of a commercial break... like the old sitcoms.

Bucky Barnes noticed the woman in aisle seven, struggling to reach the set of mixing bowls on the top shelf almost immediately.

He noticed her because he’d run into her earlier that day, literally.

She’d been walking through the mall, head down over her phone, consulting some coupon site and she’d plowed straight into him, nearly knocking them both over. Bucky apologized, even though she was the one on the phone, because at this point in his life, apologizing was what he did.

She barely even blinked at him, certainly failed to notice his cyber-arm that Stark Industries had made and that Bucky tested routinely as part of his job. “Oh, it was me,” she said, smiling, “I should put this thing away and watch where I’m going. I just-- I’m new in town, and I need stuff for my house, do you know where the household goods department is?”

Bucky pointed, and she stepped closer into his personal space so that she could look down his arm as if he was sighting a gun. “Oh, thanks so much.”

“Any time,” Bucky said, and watched her go. She was beautiful, from the crown of her mahogany hair to the tips of her perfect toes. He knew they were perfect because she was wearing open toed sandals.

He knew she was wearing open toed sandals because the next time he saw her, not twenty minutes later, she was turning a corner too sharp, bumped him, and dropped her purchases all over the floor. While Bucky was scrambling to pick them up, he got an up close look at scarlet painted toenails, a single silver ankle bracelet, and the strappy little shoes she was wearing.

“Oh, it’s you again,” she said, “I’d say how delightful, but perhaps I’m more of a bother than a delight.”

“You’re fine,” Bucky said. “Is this everything?”

“I have a bit more shopping to do,” she said. “You work here?”

“In a manner of speaking,” Bucky said. “I’m doing research for my boss.”

“Ah, well, perhaps we’ll bump into each other again.”

Which meant when he saw her, practically climbing the shelves like a ladder, he knew exactly who she was, even if he didn’t know anything about her, including her age.

But he was also able to guess well enough that she was about to fall. He had just enough time to consider the dilemma of startling her by asking if he could help when she did fall and he was close enough that a quick jump got him there right on time.

To have her land neatly in his arms.

He hadn’t done anything like that in years; the cyber-arm from Stark Industries being a relatively new invention, and for almost six years before that, Bucky was a one-armed bandit. So to speak.

She gasped, her eyes going round, and then soft.

“Well, my hero,” she said as he helped her get her feet under her.

“We’re making a habit of it, at least,” he replied. 

“Third time’s the charm,” she said, and there was a strange emphasis on the way she said it, and through her wrist, which Bucky realized he was still touching, he detected a little pulse of energy, something like a heartbeat, only moreso.

“My name is Bucky,” Bucky said, “Bucky Barnes.”

“Wanda,” she said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Right,” Bucky said. “Here, let me get that down for you.” She wasn’t really all that short, but the shelves were stupidly high, and Bucky snagged it down from the top and handed it to her. “Maybe we’ll bump into each other again.”

“Well, if we do, we ought to sit down and talk about it, because we’re just an accident waiting to happen,” Wanda said. “I run into you one more time, and we’ll be in the ER, hoping to get triaged sometime in the next six hours.”

“No, no, I pass on that part,” Bucky said. “I see enough doctors as it is. But-- maybe I could take you out for a coffee?”

“Oh,” Wanda said. “Oh, well, yes, yes you could do that, couldn’t you? I-- I think I would like that. Very much. Coffee. Did you-- did you want to do that now, I mean, can you do that now, you’re still at work, right?”

“My work,” Bucky said, holding up his left hand as if maybe she’d missed it and that’s why she was considering going out on a date -- was it a date, a coffee, did that count as a date? Bucky didn’t date much. At all. Really. “Is to test this in everyday circumstances and to keep an exacting journal on everything that happened. Stark’s going to love this, having caught you, that’s a stress test we hadn’t even _considered_ yet.”

“That’s… that’s good?” She reached out, then snatched her hand back. 

“You can touch it, it’s okay,” Bucky said. People were insatiably curious sometimes, and Bucky always prefered the ones who considered maybe he didn’t want to be touched. Or kids. A lot of kids just grabbed his hand, latched on to it.

It was eye catching, silvery and mechanical.

“Thank you,” she said, and she turned his hand over like she was a fortune teller planning to read his palm. A whisper of sensation along the metal skin-- pressure, mostly. He didn’t really have _feelings_ anymore. Stark was working on it, but hooking into a human’s neural network was tricky. They’d been doing work with sea life-- so Stark had said, but Bucky wouldn’t be even close to that part of the process. He was just a very expensive guinea pig. “It’s astonishing what humans can do, don’t you think? Like… magic.”

“I wish,” Bucky said. “Magic seems like it would be a lot easier.”

“No,” Wanda said. “Probably not.”

“Well, maybe. Don’t know anyone who can do magic, so it’s kinda a moot point.”

“For now,” Wanda said. “So, does that mean you can go out to coffee, _now_?”

“It does,” Bucky said. “Why don’t we buy your things, I’ll help you load up your trunk. There’s a nice coffee shop about a block south of here.”

“Why don’t we do that, then?” Wanda said, smiling up at him.

* * *

> **Stark Cyberlimb Mark III, subject James Barnes, Day 62**
> 
> Stresses on the arm included:
> 
> \-- attempt to write in pen, unsuccessful
> 
> \-- banging into a wall accidentally. Small scuff on third plate noted, buffed out easily with application of new formula
> 
> \-- caught woman mid-fall, approximately 140 pounds from a height of no more than eight inches. No alarms or mechanical failures noted.
> 
> \-- some brief possible _sensation_


	2. She's got the Moon in Her Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda really does seem perfect...
> 
> maybe a little too perfect

Bucky had missed weekly bar night with his friends three weeks running. He couldn’t help it. Wanda was just so intriguing. And lovely. And friendly. For the first time in ages, he wasn’t constantly worrying about everything. Being around Wanda was like a balm for his soul.

“We’d been wondering if you’d fallen off the planet,” Nat said to him, bringing over the first round of drinks as she slid into their usual corner table. “I put in some orders for cheese fries and fried mushrooms.”

Sam, her boyfriend, made a face. Sam did not like mushrooms, and he was a bit of a health nut. Or so he claimed, although when no one was paying attention, he would snitch a piece of fried food. He did jog a lot, though. Bucky was more of the opinion of only run when chased, but whatever made people happy.

“Still planet-bound,” Bucky said, grabbing his drink and taking a long swig of cheap Long Island Iced tea. He could feel that in his teeth, and if he was lucky, he wouldn’t be puking it back up later. Nat would always buy the first round, but she always bought the cheapest shit possible. “I might have met someone.” He went ahead and got that out of the way, because if he said it now, he’d still be mostly sober while they grilled him about it. 

Which meant he might not say more than he planned. 

Like how perfect she was, and how much better he was sleeping just because he knew he’d see her in a few days. How much he laughed when they were together; Wanda was funny and endearing and had a wicked, sly sense of humor. The way her mouth reminded him of creme brulee and the way her skin smelled like jasmine. He knew the way sunlight reflected off her hair, and the glitter of moonlight in her eyes.

She was nothing like anyone he’d ever dated before, and even though it had only been a month, Bucky was pretty sure he was only a few dates away from the L word, and he did not mean _lesbians._

As far as Bucky could tell, she was perfect. Which would set off all sorts of alarm bells with his friends.

“That’s great, Buck,” Steve said, putting his arm around his girl, Peggy. “When are we going to get to meet her?”

“Not so fast, ya losers,” Bucky said. “Last time I brought anyone around, you all scared her off.”

“We scare because we care, James,” Peggy said. “And Ophelia Sarkissian wasn’t a person, she was a snake in a human suit. We only worry about you.”

“Yeah, bunch of overbearing mother hens, the lot of you.”

“Well, you can’t just leave us in suspense,” Nat said. “Tell us about her.”

Bucky told them a few basic things; what she looked like, that she wasn’t American, but instead from Sokovia. “She and her brother came over as refugees after the Sokovia earthquake,” he said.

“Wait, you said her name was Maximoff?” Sam asked. “You mean, like Pietro Maximoff?”

“Yeah, that’s her brother.”

“Oh, man,” Sam said. “I’d love to meet that guy.”

“Huh?”

“Pietro Maximoff is an Olympic sprinter,” Sam said with exaggerated patience. “He took four gold medals for Sokovia--”

Bucky shrugged. “She hadn’t mentioned much about her family, really, aside from that she had a twin brother and that her father works for NASA.”

“Yeah, after the Sokovian earthquake, we got a lot of their top scientists,” Nat said. “I think I’ve heard of this man.”

“So, you gotta bring her around, Bucky,” Steve insisted. “Of course we want to vet your friend, make sure she’s a good match.”

“She’s a good match,” Bucky insisted right back. “We’ve got a lot in common, and I’m really just enjoying her company.”

“What, precisely, do you have in common with a Sokovian refugee?”

“We both like coffee,” Bucky said. Which was very important. He’d had a live in girlfriend for a while who had not liked coffee at all -- not even the smell of it -- and that had made things very difficult for Bucky. They’d gone to several different coffee shops. It seemed like Wanda knew every single one in the city. “And walks in the park.” Wanda also knew where all the benches were in the park where they could sit down and make out for a while and no one would bother them.

“Walks. And coffee.”

“No, I agree with Bucky, it’s important that she likes coffee,” Sam said.

“We’ve gone to the movies a few times,” Bucky said. They had done that, but he rather hoped his friends didn’t ask him about that, since he didn’t remember anything about what they’d seen, since they spent most of the film necking in the back row, and Bucky’d been too hot and bothered to worry about what the actors were doing. “And I’ve gone back to her place to watch TV.”

“Netflix and chill, I like it,” Nat said. 

Everything always seemed perfect, whenever Wanda was around. They seldom had to wait to get seated, even at the popular places, a reservation would open up, or a large party was just leaving. She was like Bucky’s own, personal good luck charm.

“I’m glad you’re happy, James,” Peggy said. “But you should bring her around.”

“That’s a lot of pressure, meeting the friends,” Bucky said. 

“So, we will double date,” Nat suggested. “Me and Sam, yes? Go out and have drinks or something?”

“I’ll ask her,” Bucky said.

“You could just text her,” Steve suggested. “Ask her if she wants to come over now.”

Bucky hesitated. He and Wanda didn’t really _text_. Not really. Sometimes he’d text her, but usually when he did, she’d just pop over for a quick visit. It was never more than fifteen minutes or so, but she frequently seemed to be nearby. If he texted her now, would she just walk in?

_Hey, having drinks and apps with my friends. You want to join us?_

A moment later his phone buzzed. _I’m not far, I was out. Sure. Give me a few minutes to freshen up._

“She’s on her way,” Bucky said, smiling with helpless delight. He was going to get to see her on a night he hadn’t expected to. 

“That was quick,” Nat said. “What is she, a stalker?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “She said she was already out,” he noted, but a frisson of unease went down his spine. Had he told her _where_ they were? He didn’t think he had, but before he could figure a way to check his phone discreetly, she was walking in the door, and waved when she spotted him.

She was perfect. Bucky stood to go greet her, already reaching for her. She melted into his arms with a quick kiss. 

“I’ve been dying to meet your friends,” she said. 

“Well, I’ll introduce you.”


	3. A Thousand Rainy Days Since We First Met

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanda meets the friends and Nat's night does not go as planned.
> 
> Bucky opens his mouth...

It was nice not to be the fifth wheel for once, Bucky thought. The group usually sat at the same table every week, and it was crowded even with five of them. He thought about offering Wanda space in his lap -- that would be cute and establish right away that he was, in fact, dating someone, but maybe the bar had gotten new tables or something, because Wanda pushed in next to him and there was plenty of space. She was still close enough that his thigh was pressed against hers, however, and Bucky leaned over to kiss her cheek. 

“So, introduce me,” Wanda said.

“Everybody, this is Wanda,” Bucky said. “Wanda, this is Steve, and Peggy, and Natasha and Sam.”

“There will be a test, so pay attention,” Sam said.

“Let’s see,” Wanda said. “You’re Frank and Karen and Jessica and Luke, right?”

“Oh, sarcastic, I like her,” Sam said.

“How did you meet our Bucky?” Natasha wondered, her eyes narrow with suspicion. Because it was Nat and she always thought everyone was a serial murderer until proven otherwise, and then she would still say _I told you so_ if they were awful later.

Wanda told the story, somewhat exaggerated, of how he caught her at the department store, and then asked to take her for coffee. “Seems like it’s been a thousand dates since then,” she gushed, “and every one of them has been perfect. It’s like we were made for each other.”

Nat made a rude noise, but Wanda didn’t appear to hear it as the waitress arrived with another tray of appetizers.

Bucky didn’t remember ordering them, but they were his favorite, and Wanda’s. Cheese fries for him, stuffed mushrooms for her, and a blue raspberry margarita with little gummy fish in it.

“Is that a drink special?” Steve wondered. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that before.”

“It’s my favorite,” Wanda said. “Do you want-- I mean, I can get another one, if you want this one.” And she shoved the drink at Steve, smiling. “Be right back.” She scooted off the bench and headed to the bar.

“She seems nice,” Steve said, taking a gulp of the drink she’d relinquished to him.

“ _Very_ nice,” Nat said in that voice that meant anything but.

Wanda was back before Bucky had to defend her -- although he did kick Nat in the ankle, who promptly kicked him back. Misstep on Bucky’s part, Nat’s feet were pointier than Bucky’s. And she kicked harder. He was pretty sure he had a bruise on his shin.

“So, tell us about you,” Peggy said. “Where did you go to school, what are you doing for a living, hobbies, pets?”

“It’s not a job interview, for fuck’s sake, Pegs,” Bucky complained.

“Oh, I went to BB&C University,” Wanda said, readily enough.

“I see,” Nat said. “What did you study?”

Oh, you know, basic hoodoo and mumbo jumbo. Chem major. Took a minor in Astrology.”

“You mean Astronomy?”

“Yes, that, of course that’s what I meant. Study of the stars and planets.”

“You don’t really seem like a hard science sort of woman to me,” Nat said, peering at Wanda.

“Nat, stop, really,” Bucky said. “You have to forgive her, she’s--”

“Looking out for her friend, of course I understand,” Wanda said. “No harm in it. And I wasn’t the best student, but my father had certain expectations of me, and I wanted to make him proud.” 

“Having a famous brother to live up to, I guess that makes stuff like grades and jobs seem a little less important,” Sam said. 

“Oh, we’re all very proud of Pietro, he’s done so well for himself,” Wanda gushed. “He’d just love all of you, I imagine. Trying to get him to come visit, but he’s been very busy.”

And the chat turned to Wanda’s brother. Nat opened her mouth a few times as if to ask a question, or to make an observation, but she seemed plagued with bad luck. The music turned on very loud for a few moments, making conversation all but impossible, and then someone apparently had made an order of desserts, and Nat was famous for her love of chocolate over anything else. And then, toward the end of the evening, Sam managed to get caramel sauce in Nat’s hair, forcing her to scamper off to the ladies’ room to rinse it out.

“You all gonna wanna be gone by the time she comes back,” Sam cautioned, and Bucky quite frankly agreed. Nat was particular about her hair and her looks and something as annoying as caramel in her hairdo was likely to make her very cross.

“I’m sure it’ll come right out,” Wanda said. “Just like magic.”

Sam shook his head. “I’m already in the doghouse,” he said, “so I only hope you’re right.”

“Ask her to dance with you when she comes out,” Wanda suggested. “It’ll be fine. I have a good feeling.”

Just as Wanda and Bucky reached the door, the music shifted to something older, less modern. Something from the cheesy days of the eighties, which Bucky knew was Nat’s favorite kind of music. Cold War era, big haired bands.

“Did you--” Bucky started to ask, but Wanda was only looking around for their Uber. Of course Wanda hadn’t done anything, how would she even know what to do, much less have time to do it. “Nevermind.”

“I like your friends, they seem nice,” Wanda said as they climbed into the Uber -- it was always nice how they never had to wait for a ride. 

“Aside from Nat, I think you were a big hit,” Bucky said. “And it takes Nat a while to warm up to people. She’s naturally suspicious.”

“I’m sure we’ll all get to be best of friends,” Wanda said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

“I’m glad,” Bucky said. “Because I really, really like you, and--”

“I had a feeling, when we met,” Wanda said at the same time.

“Oh, no, sorry, go on.”

Wanda smiled. “Did you ever think that two people were just… meant to be? Or, maybe not even that, but that two people could be so compatible that nothing could ever stand in their way? Once they met, there’d be no one else, ever?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said, touching her face. “I keep finding myself thinking the same thing. I mean, I know, it’s too soon, and it’s too much, and we… we’ve only known each other a few weeks now, but…”

“It seems like forever. Like it was meant to happen. Like-- I can’t imagine anyone else. Not ever.”

“Me, either,” Bucky confessed. “I… I’m in love with you.”

“Oh, me too, Bucky. I love you so much.”

Bucky took a deep breath, and for that moment, he knew it was right. “Let’s get married.”


	4. Papa Don't Preach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A visit from Papa...
> 
> and Wanda has to confess.

Wanda looked at herself in the mirror. Her wedding dress was -- as expected -- completely lovely. It flattered her shape, was white and lacy and beautiful. She was beautiful. She felt beautiful.

Of course, she also felt zipped in, pulled up, spanxed to an inch of her life, and the stockings she was wearing were cutting off circulation in her toes. Or maybe that was her shoes.

The courthouse wedding had been simple enough and Bucky’s friends had been happy enough to serve as witnesses.

“My father’s in India, consulting,” she had explained, “and Pietro’s always busy.”

That was a lie and a half. She hadn’t bothered to tell her family she was getting married and there were reasons for it. But no one prodded her too much about it, which was also good.

“Aphrodite, I want out of this dress,” she declared. 

Wanda twisted her fingers, scarlet smoke swirling around her hands, and then added just a twitch of her nose, a murmured magic phrase. Her wedding gown shimmered, pinked, and then turned into a short little negligee and a silk robe barely held closed by a belt. No shoes. 

How mortal women wore such horrible shoes all the time, Wanda would never know.

She checked herself in the mirror, twisted her fingers again to send hairpins flying over to line up neatly on the hotel vanity. There. Hair down, clothes comfortable. Bucky’s eyes were going to pop right out of his head when he saw her.

It was lovely.

Perfect.

The perfect wedding, the perfect man.

Without a sound, the window flew open and her father, Erik Lensherr, strode in. “What are you doing, child?”

“Papa,” Wanda exclaimed. Red jolts of energy shot out of her fingertips and across the room, the door locked itself. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here? What are you doing here?”

“I got married,” Wanda said, definitely, the red sparks dying down. If Papa was here, he was obviously angry. Normally, he let his children do whatever they wanted.

“I know,” Papa growled. “Let you out of my sight for a few years--”

“Decades,” Wanda complained. “You haven’t been home since the sixties.”

“Yes, well, what year is it now? Nevermind, hold onto me and I’ll get you out of here. Damn these warlocks, casting spells on innocent young witches.”

“I don’t want to go,” Wanda protested. She glanced at the door. Bucky was supposed to be getting champagne and taking off his tuxedo. He’d be here any moment, and having her father in the room was not going to put him in a marital sort of mood.

“Well, of course you don’t,” Papa said. “But I can fix it, I promise, I won’t--”

“He’s not a witch,” Wanda said. “He’s a normal, moral man. Not one of us at all.”

“What’s this nonsense? Wanda Maximoff, you’re a witch, descended from a very long, distinguished coven of witches. You can’t go around marrying a _mortal_. I’ll just turn him into a frog or something. It’ll be fine.”

“You will not,” Wanda threatened, her eyes going crimson. “I cast the _Heart’s Desire_. He’s the one.”

“You must have done it wrong,” Papa said. “Oh, bother, he’s coming in.” Papa made a gesture and the sound of footsteps faded.

“What did you do to him?”

“Nothing, he’s just back in the lobby,” Papa said. “Even I’m not going to murder a homo sapien without reason. I answer to the Brotherhood, you know.”

Wanda let out a breath. “Just go, Papa,” she said. “This is my wedding night. He’s a dear, wonderful man and the spell led me right to him. Three times. He’s the right one. I’m happy with him.”

“Don’t talk to me like that,” Papa huffed. “I’m your father. I’ll tell you when you’re happy. What about the Vision? He’s a perfect good warlock, quite gifted.”

Wanda scoffed. “Just like a warlock to call himself a ridiculous name like Vision. Besides, his last attempt at transmogrification turned him purple. And all his hair fell out.”

“You’re entirely too picky, darling,” Papa said, waving his hand again. “And he’s determined. That’s the second time I’ve sent him back downstairs. I thought mortals gave up easily. Or were scared of witches.”

“He loves me,” Wanda said. “Also, he doesn’t know I’m a witch.”

“That’s going to go well,” Papa predicted. “How are you planning on explaining any of this to him?”

“I’m going to tell him,” Wanda said. 

“You and your brother are really too much trouble,” Papa said. “Both obsessed with mortals and the mortal world. At least your brother is using his powers. If you marry this man and pretend to be mortal, you know you’re going to eventually going to become mundane. You’ll lose your power, you’ll become nothing more than a mortal. You will _die_.”

“In time, like a mortal woman,” Wanda said. “Yes.” Did Papa think she didn’t know what she was doing? She’d done all her homework, she knew exactly how the spell worked. The fact that she didn’t particularly want to marry the Vision had started it -- okay, well, the purple skin had really started it. But she didn’t want to marry him even before that. Finding her perfect match, that was a time-honored spell. Admittedly, it was usually cast for a mortal by a witch, not on a witch. But details, details. Bucky was perfect for her, and she was perfect for him. It was meant to be. “Go away, Papa.”

“Daughter, you don’t know what you’re in for,” Papa said. “There’s a lot of prejudice against our kind, even when mortals believe in us at all. You’ll be lucky if you don’t end up ablaze on top of a pile of church pews or something horrible.”

“Bucky won’t do that, Papa. He’s a good man. Now, please, you can’t be here. It’s my _honeymoon_.”

“Fine,” Papa said. “But if you need me, just call. I’ll only be a whistle away.”

Ug. _Creepy_. Overprotective fathers were the _worst_. “Shoo!”

Papa scowled, and then vanished in a puff of magenta smoke. Wanda waved one hand, directing the smoke out the open window and closing it with her powers. “Maybe I should try to taper off on the magic,” she muttered.

“Wanda,” Bucky said, opening the door, “the strangest thing just happened, I was taking a drink and--” he gestured with the tumbler of whiskey in one hand and then stopped, staring at her. “Oh, nevermind.”

“Darling,” Wanda said. “I--- we should talk. I have something I need to tell you. Um. Before.”

“Really? Now?”

“I mean, it’s only a little thing, but I should probably tell you that I’m a witch.”

“ _What_?” Bucky looked into his tumbler again, then knocked the rest of it down. “Nevermind that, dear. We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

“You don’t believe me,” Wanda said.

“Well, you have to admit--”

Wanda waved one hand and the chair slid up behind him, knocking Bucky’s legs out from under him and making him sit down forcibly. “Sit down and _let’s talk_.”

“Witch. Right. Okay, I’m listening.”


	5. I Wanna Reach Out and Grab Ya

Bucky couldn’t sit still, Wanda decided. She’d dragged more than one chair over to him. Moving things with a gesture and a few choice words was the most impressive part of her magic. Or maybe it was that she was using magic and it made him nervous.

“Look, I’m not a very important witch, and I don’t know a lot of magic,” Wanda started. “You’ll hardly notice at all.”

“You’re moving things around by pointing at them, I think that counts as impressive magic,” Bucky said, waving his arms around.

“Oh, no, no,” Wanda said. “My father’s very important, he’s in charge of the moon.”

“I thought you said he worked for NASA,” Bucky said, stopping in his tracks to look at her.

“Well, yes, he does, sort of,” Wanda said. “In that he drops in from time to time, especially when they get their silly little satellites too close.”

“And no one’s ever reported a witch in a pointy hat showing up at NASA?”

“Well, no,” Wanda said. “You’re being prejudiced, the pointy-hat thing was _centuries_ ago, and not all witches wear them.”

“Did you _seriously_ just hashtag-not-all-witches me?”

“Look, Papa has a coven on the moon,” she said. “It’s safe and there are a lot of technological issues that cause problems and complications with magic, so-- moon coven. That’s where Papa works. The Brotherhood of Witches.”

“Witches aren’t women?”

“Right, like all doctors are _men_ ,” Wanda said, rolling her eyes. “You don’t have to be sexist and stubborn at the same time. Witch is what we do, what we are, not what bits and parts we have.”

“So, do something witchy,” Bucky challenged.

“You mean aside from moving the furniture,” Wanda said. She sighed, gestured, let her nose wiggle and poured herself a drink. From across the room. Let it float over to her hand. “Hmmm. Whiskey. Not my favorite.” She twitched and the whiskey became a glass of wine. “Not enough.” Another wiggle and there was a margarita in her hand. A big one, with sugared rim and some gummy fishes floating in it. “Better. You want one?”

“Vodka,” Bucky said, firmly, staring.

She snapped her fingers and produced a vodka for him. And just to be obnoxious about it, she imported it from Russia. She didn’t include the Russian who was drinking it, because she couldn’t make things out of nothing. She could move them, replace them, change them. But there were certain rules about magic and creating something out of nothing was… well, it had been done a few times before, and the results had been disastrous.

Certainly, she wasn’t going to get arrested for Creating Chaos.

“All right,” Bucky said. He drank his vodka and then hissed between his teeth. “Oh, that’s good.”

Wanda pointed a finger and filled it up again. “You believe me now?”

“Oh, I’m not sure that I’m not just dreaming,” Bucky said. 

“You’re not,” Wanda assured him. “I mean, maybe I shouldn’t have married you. Witches don’t always mix with mortals, and a lot of times it really doesn’t go well, but I… I just love you, so much.”

Bucky finished the glass of vodka. “I love you, too,” he said. “I do, don’t I? You didn’t…” He made some sort of gesture with one hand that was meant to mimic a magic spell, but looked just ridiculous. His fingers were far too stiff.

“No,” Wanda said. “I… I can’t do that. Not that another witch couldn’t, perhaps. But I don’t know how. All I-- Papa wants me to marry a warlock, the Vision. And I didn’t want to. So I cast the _Hearts Desire_. It’s not a love potion, it doesn’t… create feelings. It just shows you the-- not even really a soul mate. Just shows you the person you’re most compatible with. That you have the best chance of having a good relationship with. All the rest of it, that’s all still us, and our work to make it work.”

“So, the magic said I was your best possible… husband?”

Wanda nodded. “Are you mad about it?”

Bucky put the glass down and crossed the room to her. “I’m not mad,” he said. “I love you. We’ll-- we’ll talk about it more in the morning.”

“I mean, I thought you should know,” Wanda said, biting the side of her lip. “But also, I probably ought to warn you.”

“Warn me?” Bucky picked up his glass again, refilled it. Honestly, if he kept that up, she’d probably have to magic him sober again, just so she could enjoy her wedding night. And she wasn’t really good at that sort of thing. 

“Papa was here,” she said, waving a hand at the now closed and locked window. Not that locks -- mortal locks -- would do any good if Papa wanted _in_. “He’s not… disposed toward our marriage.”

“Uh.”

“He’ll probably just try to talk me out of it. A lot. I’m unlikely to wake up with a bullfrog on my pillow or anything.”

“That’s possible? The whole turning people into frogs thing?”

“For some witches,” Wanda admitted. “And while it’s not hard to change yourself. I can do that. But it’s really hard to change other people. He’d not expend the effort. Also, the Council of Witches disapproves of anything that might let mortals know we’re around.”

Bucky gave her a sharp look. “Like marrying one?”

Wanda winced. She had hoped he might not put that all the way together. “It’s possible.”

Bucky put the glass down again, and while he wasn’t looking at it, Wanda whisked it off to the sink. No more drinking. “I’ll fight for you, you know,” Bucky said. “Witch or not. You’re my wife.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Bucky said, gathering her up into his arms. “Now-- I’m going to take you to bed, unless there’s something else pressing I need to know.”

“Not right at present, I think,” Wanda said, giggling as he carried her the few feet over to the bed and dropped her on it.

“Hello, wife.”

“Hello, husband.”

* * *

Outside the window, barely noticed, an owl watched, golden eyes unblinking. For a long moment, the owl merely perched there, resting on the rail. Then, with a sigh that seemed too big for such a creature, it launched itself into the air. 

Higher and higher it flew, way past what a normal own would do, and then past what a normal owl _could_ do.

He was beyond the reach of earth’s gravity before Erik Lenhsherr changed into his birth-form. Strong and powerful and handsome, wearing a dark magenta cloak and his psionic disrupting helm, he made an impressive sight. If anyone could have seen him.

Which they could not. Erik had not reached the age of five full centuries by being an idiot. 

He landed on the dark side of the moon and approached the fortress there. Genosha shimmered out of the illusion that protected it, and the door opened to admit him. 

The Vision appeared, probably summoned by magical alarms. “And--”

“She married a mortal,” Erik snarled.

“Oh,” the Vision was a nebbish sort, technically a witch of such high standing as to earn his own sobriquet. But he didn’t have the magnetism to pull off powerful witchery. He’d been expecting to marry into Erik’s family and earn more status with that alliance. “What shall we do?”

“Watch. Wait.” Erik suggested. “She’s not likely to be very happy among the mortals, and when she’s ready to come home, it would be best if she wasn’t already angry with you.”

“True,” the Vision said. “And, if nothing else, mortals don’t live all that long. I can just as easily be married in thirty years as now.”

Erik hummed thoughtfully, but didn’t respond. Better to be silent, and thought wise.

But Wanda had always been stubborn. The twins both were.

It would be a long, difficult half century.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this was a tv show, this would be the end of the pilot episode... consider the theme music playing now...


End file.
